The Terror of Whitechapel
by HawkFrost24
Summary: Historic AU. Hiccstrid. Leave a review if you enjoyed it. My story takes place in Victorian England during the reign of Britain's most infamous serial killer...
1. Chapter I

**If you guys catch any errors, grammatical or or otherwise, let me know in a review and I'll make sure to edit it.**

 **Story Update 1.0:**

 **Fixes identified grammatical errors, sentence structure, etc.**

 **Fixes incomplete thoughts**

 **Slight tweaking of story**

 **Enjoy!**

Footsteps echoing off the walls in the dark alley caused Astrid to quicken her pace. She cursed herself for being so careless, everyone knew it was suicide to walk these streets after dark. Not with him on the loose. Things had gotten so bad that not even the coppers patrolled this area anymore.

Her heart rate sped up rapidly as she realized her follower's footsteps had also quickened. No longer caring about maintaining the illusion of being calm, she broke out into a full on sprint. By the gods was she glad she had decided to wear a tunic and leggings as opposed to a her normal dress.

Panting heavily, she rounded a corner that bottomed out into a dead end. Swearing viciously as the footsteps were getting closer and closer, she desperately tried not to break down and give into the terror that was clawing its way up her throat. She looked around wildly for a means of escape. There! At the edge of her vision she noticed a dilapidated ladder clinging loosely to the wall.

So relived to see a means of escape was she, that she forced herself to ignore the voice whispering in the back of her mind. Sprinting across the clearing she threw herself at the ladder and scurried up it. She had just climbed over the last rung when she saw it.

The words to describe what exactly she saw haven't been invented in any language, past or present. She was struck with a terror so intense her muscles seemed to atrophy on the spot. She couldn't move, she couldn't blink, even breathing seem to become an impossible challenge. Gripping the ladder so tightly it turned her knuckles white; she still didn't let go, she couldn't.

It couldn't be explained for it defied all logic. Despite the fact this disgusting thing was gliding toward her with slow measured paces should've encouraged her to run, but she couldn't. All she could do was stare with horror as it got closer and closer.

Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, she gritted her teeth. If she was to die, she wasn't going to do so sniveling like a coward, she was a Hofferson after all. So fixated was she on the creature stalking towards her she failed to notice the person approaching from her rear. Letting out a startled yelp as arms laced around her waist, dragging her away and backward from the ledge, her brain and body started to work in harmony again.

The arms around her gripped her with surprising force and began dragging her away with even more surprising speed. Quickly, they were rapidly closing in on a carriage with the door open. Knowing she only had a small window of time left she made her move. Twisting her body enough to be halfway facing him, she put as much energy as she could muster and slammed her open palm into her unknown attackers face. Hitting him dead in the nose.

She expected to hear the demonic howl of pain a creature from the underworld might emit, but instead a deep but slightly nasally voice cursed and the tension around her waist loosened considerably. Freeing herself, she spun around prepared to fight, but instead stopped dead in her tracks.

This wasn't some Hellhound...it was man, roughly 5 and 20. Slender, but obviously well built, considering the strength of his grip around her waist and how tightly he had held her close to him. She chuckled to herself how that would sound in a different circumstance, and recoiled at the fact that she was now blushing for some reason.

Turning her attention back to her... _rescuer_? She realized he was now holding a handkerchief to his nose to stem the blood flow.

"Okay, I can see how in a different light my actions could be interpreted as less than gentlemanly."

With a start, his eyes widened and he lunged forward, gripped her forearm and again started dragging her to the awaiting carriage. She was about to strike him again when he continued.

"But right now we have to move to a more defensible location, or do you want to stay and find out before Jack slits your throat if he's feeling peckish for some tea and a biscuit?"

Her head snapped back over her shoulder to realize with horror that... _Jack_ had climbed over the ladder and was making his way over to them.

Growling at the smirk that was toying at the edges of this man's face, she allowed herself to be lead to the carriage.

"You don't have to run while holding my hand." She bit out between breaths.

He instantly dropped her hand with a somewhat sheepish grin. "As you wish, mi'lady."

Again! With the blushing, she really was going to have to get that under control.

They leapt into the carriage and she hadn't even fully sat down before he was lashing the ropes against the horses urging them forward. With a sharp neigh they shot off.

She was about to sigh with relief when she heard it. Now mind you, Astrid wasn't a girl that scared easily. She had always been tough as nails and was more than willing to break the fingers of a hand that lingered on her for a bit too long. But that...that sound would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

Behind them a guttural scream seemed to rip through the air and shatter into her skull. It made her eyes slam shut on reflex and her skin crawl; it sounded like a thousand animals crying simultaneously out in pain, anger, and starvation. It echoed off walls and reverberated into her bones. She had never felt such acute terror in her life.

The man next to her let out a curse that took her by surprise, it wasn't a curse the common man would typically know. White knuckling the whips, he urged the horses on even faster. They barreled past empty streets and turns at speeds so high Astrid was sure she would fly off and slam into the outer brickwork of one of the houses.

Her heart was beating so rapidly and the fear that had gripped her was so ironclad it took her an embarrassingly long time to realize how close to him she was, and that she had inadvertently been gripping the buckles on his vest. With a nervous cough, she let go and scooted back some.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to, to...you know." She made a half gesture with her hand in the direction of him.

He smiled, he really did have a nice smile. He should use it more often. "No, I don't know, and you just gestured to all of me."

With an exasperated huff, she snapped "Sorry for practically straddling your lap!" and then blushed fiercely when her brain caught up to her tongue.

Though she did take great enjoyment at seeing just how beet red he had turned.

"Oh, is that what you were doing? I have to say mi'lady that was a very weak straddle. I think you can do better."

She couldn't help the laugh that tore from her lips. Turning to him, she punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow, that's it, I'm turning you over to the constable for assault!" He said with mock indignation while rubbing his shoulder.

Astrid pouted at him, "aww, did the poor baby get hurt?" She replied mockingly as well.

He fixed her with a haughty stare. "Baby!? I believe the words you're looking for are 'overwhelming' and 'raw Viking masculinity'"

They stared at each other for a moment before she let out a snort that eventually boiled into full on laughter from the both of them. She realized she was laughing at how easy it was to talk to this man after the nightmare of what she just endured...this strange man who hadn't told her his name and was now driving her towards an unknown destination.

With a flinch she straightened up and scooted even further away.

"Stop the carriage."

He must have surmised her thoughts because he slowed the horses down to a slow trot.

"Hey" he started with a nervous chuckle, stopping when he saw the look on her face.

He opened his mouth and closed it. After running his hands through his hair, his hair that she just now noticed was a messy mop of auburn, he tried again. Not before thoughts, however unexplainable they were, flitted through her mind of running her fingers though it.

Trying again, he faced her holding up his hands palms outward in a placating gesture.

"My father did always tell me my lack of propriety was going to get me killed." With a dismissive gesture he carried on.

"Anyways, my name his Hicc-Henry Haddock. I am truly sorry, I did mean to introduce myself before, but I was a bit preoccupied..."

She stared at him dumbly. Surely this was a joke, surely she hadn't just been _rescued, kidnapped? She wasn't quite sure,_ by the heir to the Haddock empire of all people.

She realized he was staring at her. The intensity of which, was doing a number on her and conjuring up some _very_ un-lady like thoughts. To her horror, she felt a blush start creeping up her neck so, with a supreme effort of will, she fought it down.

Extending her hand and giving him a bright smile she said "I'm Astrid".


	2. Chapter II

**I want to thank you guys for your support, it really means a lot. I also want to hear what you guys think of the story so far, so please feel free to leave reviews. Just a heads up, this entire chapter is a flashback taking place while Henry (Hiccup) is still enlisted in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. In regards to my upload schedule, it depends. I guess I'll upload as fast as you guys want.**

He was hot. Scratch that, he was sweltering. He didn't think it was possible for a location to be both humid and hot at the same time. Grunting with discomfort, he tugged at the fabric of his shirt. It was sticking to his skin again. With an angry sigh he swatted away yet another mosquito. _Damn things are going to be the death of me._

They had been on patrol for a few days now and everyone was getting jitters. Their assignment was to routinely cover the banks of the Irrawaddy River. To make matters worst, his regiment was taking point on this operation. Meaning they were to go in and see if they could shake out any rebels from amongst the jungle. Which meant they would sail for a couple klicks, drop anchor, and teams of 10 would enter the jungle and secure the villages closet to the river. Those teams would hug the riverbed and move north securing villages along the way. Then they would re-board the ship docked further down.

 _It's been said that members of the Queen's Lancers got the best of the war...well we also got the worst. Each time we debarked we knew that not all of us would return. The rebels had dug their heels into the muck of their jungle hell hole and had dared the Empire to come in after them. So we did. Only to be met with month after month of terminal diseases, shrieking nocturnal creatures, mud that could swallow a man hole, and other sights that haunt me to this day._

 _Due to the density of the jungle it was easy to get turned around and isolated. Often times we found ourselves cut off and for all we knew abandoned by our superiors. The only thing keeping us going was our will to survive and our discipline._

The sound of something howling tore Henry from his thoughts. Without even realizing it, he dropped to one knee and leveled his rifle, muzzle and bayonet facing the jungle. _Jungle_. Just saying it was enough to send shivers down his back. Jungle, he spat the word out in his mind. It was a place designed to murder and mutilate.

He stayed still, as did the soldiers around him. Their eyes moving systematically to scan the tree line for any movement.

After not seeing anything, they relaxed somewhat. Blowing out a breath he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Never gets any easier, does it sir?" A voice behind him and to the left asked.

Turning to face him, Henry realized it was the new kid. James was it?

"Say again private?"

Shifting uneasily James repeated his question, "I was just asking if it gets any easier?"

His voice was much quieter now.

Henry gave him a look over.

The boy was here because the last man who held his spot had drowned trying to take cover from enemy fire. One of the straps on his bag had gotten snagged on something in the water and no one had noticed until it was to late.

Feeling pity for the scared private Henry walked over to him and set out straightening his straps and making sure everything was tucked.

"Where are you from?"

For a moment the boy didn't answer, then realizing his superior officer had just asked him a question he, quickly spat it out.

"London, sir" he said shakily.

'Ah, so you're a city boy?" Henry replied with a chuckle.

"Yes sir, me mum always loved the city."

"And you sir? If you don't mind me asking."

"Me? I'm from the country, but my family business is in the city." _Mainly because the family business practically built the city._

Satisfied that everything with James was as it should be, he slapped him on the shoulder, causing the young man to jump slightly.

"Look, stay close, buddy up, cover each other's backs, and you'll be fine. Got it?" The young man nodded his head rapidly.

Sighing inwardly, Henry gave him a confident smile.

He was about to say something else when he got interrupted.

"Full stop!" Captain Marbury's voice rang out even above the noise of the steam engines.

Slowly, but surely, the barge came to a stop, gently swaying in the breeze.

"Lieutenant Haddock?" The voice of Marbury's adjutant caused him to turn.

"Yes?"

"The captain awaits you. He wants to give you your orders personally." He motioned with his hands.

Sighing, Henry shouldered his rifle and followed.

"Captain, Lieutenant Haddock." The adjutant saluted and stood at attention.

The captain nodded towards the door and he adjutant clicked his heels, spun, and left.

Standing at attention and offering a crisp salute, Henry spoke "Captain. You summoned me?"

"Yes, I did." His face was grave and his expression held a measure off weariness.

"Approach." Henry walked forward.

"You and your men disembark here. You are to proceed due east hugging the river bank."

He punctuated his statements by pointing out the locations on the map in front of them both.

"Mission parameters sir?"

"Search and destroy. Eliminate all hostiles and pacify any resistance."

Henry swallowed hard, and then nodded shortly.

He hated search and destroy missions, and he especially didn't fancy carrying one out in the treeachouors hell that was the Burmese jungle.

"Expected time in bush?"

The captain made a face, "Undetermined. High command has been getting mixed reports. Ever since their defeat at Minhla they've crawled back into the jungle to hide. Which means we get the job of shaking them out."

"Are we expecting heavy resistance sir?" He asked.

The captain again made the face, "Possibly."

"How should I proceed?"

"Vestiga nulla retrorsum."

Henry stiffened slightly at hearing the regiment's motto.

Noticing that, the captain stepped closer.

"Understand this Lieutenant, these are savages we're dealing with. I dont need to remind you of that, do I?"

Henry swallowed hard, fighting back the sounds of screaming and gunshots.

"No sir."

"Excellent. Now get your men ready. I want you disembarked and set to leave in 15 mikes. Dismissed."

Saluting once more, Henry spun on his heel and left


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III (Burma, 2 Years Ago)

Haddock stared down numbly at the blood that now covered his trembling hands and constricted torso. His breathing came fast and hard; he wasn't in control, he could feel himself slipping into the abyss that was delirium. He tried to call his training to mind, to steady his heart rate by slowing his breathing. It wasn't working. Try as he might, he could not bring his mind or body back into submission.

He clenched his fist to try and abate the damned shaking; clenched them so tightly his knuckles went white and he could feel the pain of his fingernails digging into his skin.

Good, the pain will center you. Trying again, he inhaled deeply and held it for 6 seconds before exhaling. He repeated this several times until, slowly, he regained some semblance of control.

Turning his head, he gazed upon what remained of his platoon. Frederic 'fish legs' Ingerman was vomiting over the side of the barge so violently Henry was afraid he would rupture his intestinal line. Meanwhile, Sydney 'snotlout' was sitting with his back to the rail, arm in a sling, and a vacant expression on his face. As if his soul had been left behind in the mud and blood of the jungle and all that remained was the vessel it had inhabited. And there, placed near the rear of the ship, lay James. His body had long since gone cold, and even through the darkness and the blanket that wrapped him, Henry could see the stiffness that meant rigor mortis had set in. The boy had barely had just turned 17. Lied about his age to get here, he wanted to serve, do his bit for King and country. He had, and Henry would make sure his country thanked him properly for it. Damn. He really had let the situation loose control.

He stared at the carnage a bit longer.

No, the realization came to him clear and sharp. He had never been in control. Of that, he was now sure.

(Present)

Her hand was soft but firm, and behind that womanly exterior lie a startlingly amount of strength. Her handshake alone could put to shame some officers he had served with. Without consciously realizing it, he gently rubbed his thumb across the gap between her thumb and forefinger.

Astrid had extended her hand wanting to regain some of her dignity after practically falling apart in front him. Dear God that was a mistake. At first, everything was fine, until she felt his thumb slide across her skin and she couldn't help the shiver that ran through her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that." He was looking intently into her eyes. They seemed far to wise for a face that young.

 _No, that's not quite right._ While he did look young, there were deep creases beneath his eyes. Why would the son of a family as important as the Haddocks look so aged?

"S'no problem." For a moment, that seemed to last a millennium, they looked into each other's eyes. Neither of them knowing exactly what the other saw.

00000

Stoic paced the room out of frustration. It had been hours since his son had gone out and the fear he had been battling was starting to reign victorious. Giving into a momentary wave of anger he picked up a book and hurled it at the wall. The force of which it impacted the wall caused the frame hanging there to slip and fall.

With a curse, he bolted across the room, terrified that he might've broken the image. Sighing with immense relief he realized it had not. There, in the center of the picture and still as beautiful as the day he lost her, was his wife. When the picture was taken she had been holding their son, a warm smile on her face as she rocked him gently. Gently, he traced her face with his finger. Seeing her, frozen in time and perfect, caused warring feelings to rise up in him. For every time he faced the realization that his wife was gone the sword of pain slammed into him, through his ribs, and directly into his heart. He could feel it again, the waves of sorrow crashing against him threatening to drown him.

And there, lie his anchor. Swaddled in a hand stitched blanket playing with a strand of his mother's hair. A wide and captivated grin on his face. His son was the only thing keeping him on this side of sanity, the only thing preventing him from surrendering himself to the agony that permanently lived within him.

He stood up and placed the photo back on the rack and returned to his seat. The flames of the fire flickered on his face as he stared into its white center. In it, he saw death, violence, and destruction. A roaring blaze of chaos devouring everything in its path. Sitting there in that chair, he offered up a prayer to God, begging him to look after his boy. For he knew that he couldn't bear the burden of losing him too.

He had scarcely finished when the door burst open and in he stumbled. His hair was windswept and he had snowflakes on him. He opened his mouth to reply until he saw a head of blonde hair following directly behind him. Even more puzzling was that his head of hair was attached to a young lady who was wearing his son's winter coat. Quickly, she shut the door behind them and made sure all its locks were in place.

"Dad," pausing to pant and catch his breath he continued, "This Astrid. Jack almost killed her."

00000

15 minutes later Astrid had changed and was sitting in front of the fire trying to warm herself. Clasped in her hands was a cup of tea that she had been nursing.

"When I arrived she had already scaled the ladder in the alleyway. No small feat considering you have to jump at least 3-5 feet just to reach the bottom rung." Henry said recounting the story. "After that, I grabbed her and started to drag her to my carriage. No need to tell me that wasn't proper."

Henry stopped his fathers reply with a raised hand. "She gave me one hell of a blow. Damn near broke my nose." He chuckled at the memory. "Make no mistake, she has fire inside her that not even most men can even muster."

Henry's father raised an eyebrow at the admiration in his son's voice. Seeing that look, he looked down quickly. Perhaps it was his imagination or was his boy blushing. Turning his back to conceal his small smile, he walked towards her.

She looked up at his approach and he expected to see fear or alarm in her eyes. He was mistaken, the intensity of her gaze would've cowed a lesser man. Without really knowing why he felt great pride at this.

"How are you holding up?" She stared up at him a moment before answering. "Well, all things considered."

"You wouldn't be Hofferson's girl would you?" She seemed surprised he knew who she was. "I am, how did you know?"

He chuckled slightly, "A father's greatest pride are his kids. Especially so when it comes to daughters."

Astrid paid rapt attention. She was unaware that her father had spoken so highly of her.

"And you sir? You're stoic right? Stoic the vast?"

He stared off, as if he was looking through her and into the past. "I was."

Looking at her all bundled up in sheets and furs, Henry was sure he'd never seen a creature as breathtakingly beautiful as her. _Strong words for a woman you just met and barely know._ The words echoed in his skull and he banished them with a scowl. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason, he knew that for as long as he lived, he would never feel, for another woman, this way again.


	4. Chapter IV

**Update 9/14/18**

 **Many apologies for my absence. I started college the ending of August and my schedule has been all out of wack. I do plan on finishing this story. I've updated grammar and sentence structure in this chapter.**

Astrid hadn't realized just how tired she was. The fear of being chased mixed with the apprehension that was running into Henry had kept her so preoccupied she hadn't stopped to fully comprehend it all. Now that she was sitting in front of the fire, snuggled up in a bundle of blankets, nursing a cup of tea, she could feel it. It was like being a buoy in the middle of a raging ocean, and try as she might she just couldn't fight the waves of exhaustion back. It seemed that after every blink it took more and more energy to reopen her eyes. "Rest." Her mind all but shouted at her.

Shaking her head violently, she sat up a bit straighter. Tired as she was, falling asleep in a stranger's house wasn't a sensible idea. Hearing footsteps approach, she turned her head. It was Henry, he sat down beside her with a small grin. She returned it.

"Think of it like this, now you can brag to all your friends that you've seen the Ripper and lived to talk about it." His good-natured grin belied the morbidity of his words. It was such a bizarre statement that Astrid couldn't help the snort that escaped from her lips.

"Strange chap aren't we?" She inquired with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged, smiled, ran his fingers through his hair, and gazed into the fire.

After a pause, he spoke. "I served the Crown as a soldier-" he stared at the fire with a dark expression on his face, but only for the briefest moment, "having a sense of humor helps a lot."

"I thought so, you have the look about you." She replied while sipping her tea. He regarded her.

"Look?" She let out a tired chuckle, "The little things gave it away."

"Like?" He pressed.

"Like the way you stand at attention, the fact that you picked the chair with a view to the door and your back to the wall. Most damning of all is how you lost Jack. You did it with an ease that implies frequent practice."

He stared at her in surprise and admiration, his green eyes boring into her. She shifted uneasily underneath the blankets.

"Miss Hofferson, you never cease to amaze." She had to smile at that.

Letting out a deep sigh, she moved to a more comfortable position on the couch. She knew that soon her body would surrender to the warm embrace of sleep. Henry saw this, and without really intending to, he reacted. With one motion, he stood up, crossed the room to the couch and straightened the covers over, making sure that she was warm and comfortable.

When he finished he caught her eye, she was staring at him openly, a bemused expression on her face. He blushed and stepped back. "Sorry, I probably should've asked before I-"  
"No need to apologize, that was very kind of you." Astrid cut him off, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.  
He nodded and sat back down, "If its alright with you, I'll stay here until you fall asleep."  
She shrugged and murmured that it was fine by her and in less than thirty seconds she was out.

Henry watched as her breathing deepened and evened out, signifying she had indeed fallen asleep. Seeing her like this, almost vulnerable, took his breath away. He didn't know why, but overwhelming feelings of protectiveness surged from him. So, he sat by the fire for hours. All the while keeping an eye on the door. He got up to both stretch his legs and make sure the house was secure. He checked the all the windows were locked and that nothing was out of place.

He returned to his seat beside the fire, beside her. Her face was bathed in the glow of the flames and his heart ached. He had never seen something so precious. As she slept, a strand of her hair came loose and he tucked it behind her ear. It was an automatic reaction, one done without really thinking about it. Because of this, he froze when her breathing hitched. He glanced at her face to see if he had woken her, but after a second her deep breathing resumed. Letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he sat back down.

He must've dozed off himself because the sound of her whimpering brought everything into sharp focus. Leaning forward in his chair, he peered closely at her. Her face was scrunched up in an expression of mute terror and she was thrashing underneath the blankets.

He stood up and put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a hard shake. Her eyes flew open and she gripped his forearm hard enough to hurt. He didn't feel it. An irrational wave of rage had swept over him. He knew who she was dreaming of, and the thought of it boiled his blood.

"It's okay, it was just a dream." She looked around frantically as if trying to figure out her bearings. He helped her sit up and gently wiped away the single tear underneath her right eye.

She sniffed and mumbled a 'thanks'. Clearing her throat, she rubbed her arm. Henry sat back down and gave her a sympathetic look.

"It's awful isn't it?" She turned to him, "the night terrors. The rational part of your brain knows it's not real and you're not in any danger, but the other part of your consciousness is too bloody scared to care." He had her full attention now.

"And soon, you'll begin to dread going to sleep at night. Terrified of what new horror will haunt your dreams. It won't seem like it now, but as with all things, it will fade with time." At that moment, he felt much, much older.

She pondered over his words for a few moments. "Do you still get them?" Her voice was gentle and soft.

The question brought back memories of violence, the sound of gunfire, the acrid smell of spent gunpowder, and the screams of the wounded. Even though it was snowing outside and cold in the living room, the fire having gone out, he could feel the oppressive heat and the absolutely irritating noise of the mosquitos.

"Yes." His voice was raspy now. She nodded as if she had reached a decision.

"Then we shall face the horrors together." He didn't understand what she meant at first. It wasn't until she slid over, creating a pocket of room for him on the couch that he pieced it together. Heart pounding, he got up and sat next to her. She moved over more allowing him to lie down on his back. Then, tentatively, she lay down next to him, head resting above his heart and her arm across his chest. He thought for sure it must be distracting, considering how hard it was slamming into his rib cage.

She shifted slightly, and then let out a content sigh. "Comfortable?"

He nodded, he didn't trust his voice enough to speak. Also, he was acutely aware of the placing of his hands above her waist.

He gazed down at her, the room punctured by moonlight, and breathed it all in. Her hair reflecting in the crepuscular light, the slender shape of her fingers, the bridge of her nose, and her brilliant blue eyes flicking back and forth across his face.

"You're quite sure?" He nodded again, still not trusting himself to speak. She rubbed her cheek against the fabric of his shirt and let out another content sigh.


	5. Chapter V

**Thank you guys so much for all your support, we've broken over 1,200 views! This update irons out some grammatical errors.**

 **Enjoy!**

Chapter VI (6 Months Ago)

He knew he needed to get dressed. He'd been standing in front of the mirror for a while now. Trying and failing to recognize the reflection. It was so peculiar, for the man standing before him looked liked him. When he moved his hand, so did the reflection. When he blinked, it blinked too.

Yet, it wasn't him. This creature's eyes were cold, unfeeling. It seemed liked Beelzebub himself was staring back at him. And when he stared into his eyes, he saw nothing but death and destruction, fear and chaos and the dissolution of everything holy. The reflection reached out, extending its arm, so he did as well; and as their fingers touched, the reflection moved.

He hadn't.

The mirror shimmered and the reflection seem to become corporeal. Its eyes lost their hollowed out look, taking a long shuddering breath, it looked around the room for a moment; focusing on him, it moved closer and grinned, "I've missed you."

He ripped his hand from the mirror so quickly, it was as if he was struck by lightning.

The reflection smiled cruelly at him and made a sound that a demon might consider to be laughter. Breathing heavily he took a step back. "You're. Not. Really. Here."

The creature stared back at him blankly, "Why won't you leave me alone?"

The reflection appeared almost confused by the question, "I'm only here because you want me to be."

"What?" He didn't understand.

The creature smiled once more if you could even call it that. Then, with a howl, it lunged forward, arms outstretched, blood dripping from its teeth, and claws for nails.

"Richard?" Her voiced removed the effect of the nightmare.

His head snapped towards her, his breathing coming fast and hard, his face ashen. He hadn't realized he was gripping the edges of the sink hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

She gently walked forward and attempted to pry his fingers loose.

"Hey," she gently ran the back of her hand across his cheek. "It's okay. I'm here."

He stared at her for a moment, almost not recognizing her. Suddenly, he reached out and pulled her into an embrace; rubbing his cheek against the top of her hair, he let out a strangled sob.

"Shhh. It's okay." She gently kissed his chest, directly above his heart.

"I'll be alright." And in that minute, he realized he wasn't lying. As long as she was here with him, he would be alright.

She leaned back to look into his eyes. She searched for a moment, finding what she was looking for, she gave him a smile.

"Yes, I think you will be." She leaned up on her toes and gave him a gentle kiss on his lips.

He gently ran his thumb against her cheek, just below her eyelid. He was so ragged from his vision, he failed to notice, at first, all she was wearing was his undershirt.

He raised an eyebrow at her clothing and she blushed.

"What? I...I couldn't find my dress." She was laughing now. He simply held her tighter and smiled into her hair.

He turned to look at the mirror one final time, and for a second he saw it again. They started at each other, and without saying anything, it dissolved into nothing.

Yes, he would be alright. 00000

Chapter VI (Burma, II years ago)

They say all serving your country really is, is doing as your told. A soldier's way isn't why, simply to do, or die. That's easy in theory, it's far more difficult to maintain that understanding when you're asked to do something as difficult as what they had been.

As soon as he heard the door close behind them, he ripped the mask off his face and took a deep breath of fresh air. Behind him, McCormick was bent over, hands on knees, and Jameson was sweating profusely.

"Bloody hell," Jameson was clenching and unclenching his fist staring into the dirt.

This type of work was hard on everyone. Humans have a hard-wired aversion to killing their fellow humans. God knew that left to his own devices man would destroy each other, so he gave them a built inhibitor. This aversion to killing can be overcome through rigorous programming through training, but what no one has been to able to overcome is man's reluctance to cause intentional and prolonged suffering on.

That's why command rotated interrogators every 6 weeks; any longer than that and a soldier loses objectivity, starts to over attach emotionally. From there it's a steep downhill drop.

Richard walked forward to a container of water and rinsed his face off. The water was cool and refreshing compared to the insufferable heat in that room. For a few precious seconds, he felt almost human again.

"Good idea," McCormick walked up and washed his face as well, scrubbing as if he were trying to peel his skin off.

"There's no shame in waiting outside," McCormick stopped and stood slowly.

"I'm fine sir. I was just hot is all." He swallows nervously.

Richard knew he was lying, but didn't press. "No matter, we'll let him suffer for a few hours before we go back in."

Slapping his shoulder good-naturedly, he walked off.

"Get a hot meal in you. All of you. You'll need the energy. We're back in a few hours."

"Sir yes sir," Jameson replied with a smile.

Sighing, Richard checked his watch.  
It was two o'clock in the bloody afternoon, he hadn't slept in over 12 hours.

Growling about unfair labor practices, he strode off towards his horse. The house at which they were interrogating Aarav was located on the outskirts of the city. Away from throngs of people. The dense trees and the padded forest floor was excellent noise cancellation. East India had purchased a sizable portion of land for the Crown. They had now used it to build detention centers for what few prisoners they were lucky enough to catch.

Add to the fact that most of Burma was a jungle and wasn't lacking for predators of any kind, you could run prisons like these in almost total secrecy. Almost.

He walked up to his horse and gently rubbed its neck. It was a beautiful Arabia stallion; brilliant brown and gold mane that one could rightly describe as majestic. And the horse knew it as well, every shake of its head seemed to scream 'look at me!'

"Hey boy. How have we been?" A snort in response and a baleful stare. "What?" The horse pointedly ignored him and stared longingly at the bin of apples.

Richard laughed and walked over, taking out one, he came back and stood in front of his horse. The horse stared at him.

"You get one. You hear me? One." He extended his hand, palm out, and let him eat it out of his hand.

He had to laugh at the way it tickled. When he was done, the horse nudged his chest firmly with its snout.

"What did I just say?" He said with mock indignation.

The horse and Richard could've testified to this, raised his eyebrow and stared at him. Expectingly.

"No. No. I told you, you only get one. We agreed on that, remember?"

The horse chose that exact time to shake his head, almost as if he were contesting the validity of this supposed agreement.

The horse came closer and gently snorted in his face. Then, it again looked at the bin of apples in the most pitiful of ways. Richard groaned and walked again to the bin, selected another apple, and then proceeded to feed it to his stubborn horse.

As he was walking back over, he could've sworn that his horse snickered. 00000

It had now been more than 5 hours since they had strung Aarav back up.

"Okay. We're back in." Nods all around.

They opened the door and entered into the darkness. Aarav was exactly where they had left him; dangling from the ceiling in tattered clothes. What was surprising is that he had somehow managed to fall asleep.

The sound of the door clanging had awakened him with a start. He started to protest his innocence but petered off.

Richard was standing in front of him with a mug of orange juice and a plate of fried Kofta Meatballs.

"Oh good, you're awake," He moved closer. "I was worried we might have woken you."

The look on his face would've been comical if it were so macabre.

"You hungry? I know you are. The food in here sucks."

They stared at each other for a moment. The silence between them stretching on for what seemed like eons, even though it couldn't have been more than twenty seconds.

"You know what, let's get you down for a bit." Richard motioned for his men to lax the chains.

They came forward and gently lowered him down onto the floor. McCormick brought Aarav a chair and once he was seated, Richard gave him the mug of orange juice. Aarav sucked it down rapidly, draining it in a matter of seconds. Then, he gave him the small plate of food.

Ravenously, he dug in. For several seconds the only sound was of him tearing into the food. He finished and he unashamedly licked the bowl clean.

"Thank you." He murmured. "You're welcome."

Sighing, Richard leaned forward on his elbows. "Aarav, we don't like treating you like this, but you have to cooperate."

He stood and proceeded to stretch his shoulders. He picked up the bucket and placed it next to the container of water.

"I'll tell you what. You give me the location of one, just one weapon's cache and I'll, I'll get you a warm blanket and a proper meal. What do you say?"

This was a very important part of the process. Punishment without reward is pointless. The subject needs to feel like he has something to strive for. If he complies he will get rewarded. Prolonged and acute pain will erode even the strongest of loyalties.

Aarav was clearing warring with himself, but after a moment, he let out a trembling sigh. "I don't know anything."

The silence in the room that followed could've cut meat.

"Okay. Okay," Richard moves forward and pried from Aarav the mug. "That's okay."

"Please, I don't kn-" whatever he was going to say was cut short as Richard kicked the chair out from underneath his feet.

The others in the room proceeded to the room proceeded with their functions. McCormick filled the bucket with water, and Jameson got the hood and rag.

"We did try to be nice Aarav." It was hard to speak considering how hard he was fighting to keep Aarav pinned.

With considerable effort, they managed to get the hood over his head and pressed the rag to his face.

"Last chance Aarav, this is your last chance to help yourself. Where is the next attack's coming? What does the prince have planned?"

No reply.

Growling, Richard started pouring the water. Again, Aarav thrashed and gurgled violently.

While the subject is undergoing to the dehumanization process, repeatedly stating the means to salvation is crucial. The subject needs to understand that the fear and pain can stop if he complies.

"Give me one location and I will stop this!" Sounds of choking. "Give me one location, and I will stop this!"

After what seemed like an unusually long twenty seconds, they pulled the rag from his face. He vomited up water and coughed severely before breathing in deeply. While this was going on, McCormick refilled the bucket.

"Again!" Richard snapped

"No!" Aarav was desperately trying to free himself.

"Give me one location, and I will stop this.

They pressed the rag back up against his face and continued to pour water.

"Wait! Hold up," Richard motioned for them to stop. "He's trying to say something."

"Tuesday" Aarav was speaking softly.

Richard pressed his ear close to his lord to hear. "What? What's happening Tuesday?"

"Wednesday! Tuesday! Friday!" He was screaming now. His voice a shrill echo bouncing off the concrete in the room.

"Aarav! Which day is the attack, and where is it?"

He just kept screaming over and over and over again, as if he were delirious and wasn't really present in the reality the rest of them were in.

"A partial truth will be treated as a lie! A partial truth will be treated as a lie! What day is the attack, and where is it going to occur?"

Aarav quieted down and continued to murmur, almost to himself.

"Aarav, this it! What day is the attack, where is it coming? Last chance before you go into the box."

Aarav looked up at that. "You remember the box. The box sucks. Now, what day is the attack."

They stared at each other for a long time before Aarav whispered something so quietly that Richard didn't hear it at first.

"Too late." Richard gripped his head and shook him roughly.

"What do you mean too late?"

His head lulled and Richard could see he was going to pass out. His window was closing. Fast.

"Aarav!" He gave him an open-palmed slap.

"Boats, explode." His face split into a cracked grin. "I hope you alshujean alanjlyzih(1) know how to swim."


End file.
